Dark Shadows: Buried Secrets (minisode)
by IBarnabas
Summary: "It was a Dark and Stormy Night", and the Eagle Hill Caretaker finds himself seeking shelter from a violent storm raging outside of his living quarters. On the anniversary of his marriage to his late wife, he reflects upon their time together, as is his ritual. On this night, an unexpected visitor appears, and he must face a dark secret that he has kept hidden for half a century.


_***A/N*-**_ _This short story is laced with several elements of my favorite Poe stories and poems. Like many kids, Poe was where I began my love for horror and gothic stories. My hope is that DS and Poe fans alike will enjoy this one!_

 ** _BURIED SECRETS_**

"Noooooo!"

The scream was silenced by the sudden crash of thunder and strike of lightning on the tree only feet in front of him. A large branch fell under the force of lightning, plummeting to the ground. He fell to his side, dropping the lantern on the rain-soaked earth beneath him. He pushed with all of his might to find footing in the deep mud he was lying in. His old bones creaked in pain as he rose to his feet.

The lantern was broken, and there was complete darkness save for the lightning flashes across the night sky. Endless tombstones and iron fences surrounded him, and he tried to gain his bearings to reach the safety of the mausoleum. He scuffed along as quickly as he could, trying with everything in him to not look back. Forward. He had to keep moving forward.

His thick glasses were smeared by raindrops and mud, impairing what vision he had remaining. He continued foward in panic. His chest heaved from lack of oxygen, and his legs ached and grew stiff from moving so much faster than he normally did.

The lightning flashed again, illuminating the design of an unusually made tombstone. From this revelation, he suddenly knew where he was and where he must go. With a quick turn to the east, the man trudged forward, his shoes sinking in inches of mud with each step. As he made his way toward the mausoleum, he stumbled over a rock, falling to the ground. His glasses were lost somewhere. There was no time to try and find them. He had to go. With adrenalin flowing as much as it could through the old man's body, he yelled in gasps as he slowly rose to gain his stature. The wind screaming behind him like an angry banshee, he found his way to the mausoleum door. He fumbled through his rain-soaked coat pockets to find the keys. His hands trembling from nerves, the jingling sound of the keys escalated nearly over the large booms of thunder. With the next flash of lightning, he was able to see the correct key. His shaky hands worked furiously to get the key inside the lock.

With a loud creak, the iron door opened and he slid inside hurriedly, slamming the door behind him shut and bolting all four dead bolts. He leaned back against the door, panting for air. His head felt somewhat delirious from the whole ordeal, and his body ached with excruciating pain as the adrenalin began to settle. The mud from his shoes made squishing noises as he walked along the stone floor into his private chambers at the end of the mausoleum. He walked slowly down the lonely, dark corridor to the next door, wherein was his own place of dwelling. With the turn and click of a rusted key, the old man walked inside. He went to the old oak armoire and slid the door open. Inside, he found his nightgown and sleeping cap.

Removing his rain-soaked clothing and tossing them inside his hamper beside the armoire, he dressed himself for bed. Inside this room was all that he had ever needed. There was a slab protruding from the wall for him to sleep in. a tiny gas stove for him to cook with, an old wooden desk, and a quaint lavatory and bath behind a partition. There was one red window positioned where the ceiling met the top of the wall, and he had to use a wooden pole to open or close it. The stone walls surrounded him and kept him secure and protected, save one thing. Along the far end of the wall by his bed, a large crack went down the entire length of the wall. After many failed attempts to repair it himself, the fissure always seemed to return much deeper and a little bit longer each year. In the center of the room, there were two wooden rocking chairs. One had belonged to his wife before she died so many years ago.

Due to her illness, they were never able to bear children. He could not bear to part with what little belongings she had in her short life. When they were first married, they had very little. He had taken a job as the caretaker for this cemetery on Eagle Hill as a means to support them until something better came along so that their dreams of one day moving away from Collinsport to the finer parts of Europe where her family had migrated from many generations ago could become reality. Sadly, that day would never come. A disease that had afflicted several family members of each of those generations took residence within her body. The beautiful girl he had married would begin to wither away rapidly, and she died shortly thereafter.

Since burying her there in this cemetery, the caretaker never left her alone. He fixed a small living quarters so that he could spend the rest of his days with her. He took special care of her resting place, tending to it as often as he could. Tonight, he was to celebrate the anniversary of their marriage as he always did. He would shut himself inside the mausoleum in his living quarters, take his favorite picture of his beloved wife and set it by his chair, and reflect upon their time together until he fell asleep in the chair.

He began his ritual after changing into his sleeping garments. Sitting down in his rocking chair, the caretaker stared at the portrait of a beautiful red-haired woman with twinkling green eyes like shiny emeralds. Her face was filled with the joy of life. Taken when they had only been married for one week, he placed his hand against the glass, brushing the tip of his thumb across her cheek.

"My Annabel…you were always the most beautiful woman in Collinsport. We had so many plans together. I was going to show you the world that lie beyond the borders of this town. Do you remember, my dear? It was forty-three years ago this night that we danced right there in the town square after we were married. Time seemed to stand still that day, didn't it? It was the happiest day of my life."

He chuckled and smiled as his voice quivered. "Remember the time I lost my job at the Collins cannery because I was caught leaving early to meet you in the village for lunch? Yes, that's the trouble with small towns. Word spreads like a plague. Yes…just like a plague…the one that…" he bowed his head in sorrow, completely crestfallen. "The one that took you away from me." Stinging from tears, the old man's vision became blurred as he removed her picture from the frame, holding it tightly in his hand.

The thunder echoed loudly across the night sky, causing the old man to shiver. Dust and earth from the crack in the wall formed a tiny pile on his bedsheets. He set her photograph down and stood up slowly, making his way toward an album he had kept for many years filled with photographs and newspaper articles. He held a pewter candelabra in his hand with only a single candle lit and made his way back to the armoire where a box set at the bottom, filled with Annabel's belongings. Removing the dusty album from the box, he wiped the dirt away with his hand. The thick dust caused him to cough as he sat down.

He opened the cover and there, pressed in the first page beneath the plastic sheet, was the Collinsport Chronicle's wedding announcement article from their marriage. It declared the open invitation to all of the residents of Collinsport for the wedding of Vincent Usher and Annabel Lee. Above the article, there was a dried and pressed flower that she wore in her hair that day. He smiled as he reflected on the memory of their wedding.

Suddenly, a tapping sounded against the window above him. It started out a gentle sound, but grew much more forceful and desperate. Before he could stand to his feet, he noticed that the window hadn't been securely fastened. The furious tapping began pushing the red window back. Something was trying to come inside the room.

"Noooo! What is it?! Who is it?!"

A rustling of feathers flapped across the ceiling as a raven flew inside, taking perch by the frame where his wife's picture set. He shouted at the feathered intruder. "You can't be here! Get away from there! Shoo! Shoo!'

Taking the wooden pole that raised and closed the window, in his wrinkled hands, he tried to shoo away the black bird that had managed to enter into his living quarters. Not showing any hint of fear, the raven only stood still, watching him closely. He paused when he noticed something peculiar about this bird: one of its feet was missing.

"I…I'm…I'm sorry.I'm just a little beside myself tonight. What happened to you, little fella?" He set the pole back in its upright position. "What happened to your foot? Were you injured in a fight?" The old caretaker turned around, staring up at the window. "Maybe you…you were injured while fighting to protect your loved one. Is that it? Did you lose your mate, too?"

The bird sat there, watching him intently. Although its stare made him uncomfortable, he tried to make light of the situation. "Perhaps, you've come to mourn, too. You and I both. As they say, 'Birds of a feather will flock together'." He chuckled to himself. "Well, perhaps I can tell you my story tonight. For forty-three years I've spent this night alone, and each year on this night comes a violent storm like this one. Maybe it's a good thing that you are here, my little friend. Maybe it will do me some good to talk about my Annabel to someone other than her picture. Would you like to hear about her?"

The raven moved slightly left, turning its head sideways, blinking its eyes at him.

The crack in the wall shifted again, this time emitting a loud creaking sound and larger pile of earth to fall from it. Sitting still in his rocking chair, the old man spoke in a soft tone as he stared at the deep fissure. "Please, you mustn't be afraid of that. That fissure has been here as long as I have. Every year at this time it grows deeper and shifts a little. I've tried repairing it but...it never seems to work. I've just decided that if it is my time to go, it will finally give."

His eyes shifted back at his feathered visitor. "This room…I have to keep it dark on this night. I only keep a single candle burning. I speak softly so she won't be disturbed. The dead can…they can hear things. Sometimes, they take their deaths with them. It's all they have. My Annabel and I, we didn't have much. We loved with a love that was more than love. We were so happy...so happy. She had beautiful red hair and porcelain skin. Many men in the town were jealous of me when she was mine. I caught many men staring at her. Some of their wives caught them staring at her, too." The old man laughed. "She was always smiling. Even when she wasn't, she was. Her love for me was only matched by her love for life and nature. As strangely as it may sound for someone who loved life so much, this cemetery on this hill was one of her favorite places to see many birds and so many different trees. Her favorite thing to do was bird-watching. The raven, as simply-designed as they are, was her favorite of them all. She was filled with the joy of living. We had many dreams that we wanted to live. Then….then it happened."

The raven stood still, not making a sound.

The caretaker looked down. "Vincent and Annabel…the happiest couple on earth torn apart by one disease. This disease has been passed through generations of Annabel's family since migrating here from Europe. Some say it was a curse of the dead family members upon the generations for leaving their home behind. The curse...was a curse of madness."

Vincent looked up. "Day by day, I sat by her bedside as her smile faded to a blank stare. Her eyes became heavy and sullen. Her once loving personality became filled with hate and cruelty. She had a unique disease of the senses. The most enjoyable food turned bitter in her mouth. The gentle sounds of birds in the morning became loathsome and bothersome noise to her. The sun, in all it's beauty, singed her porcelain skin and would blind her. Any sort of garments other than the softest against her flesh brought screams of agony and pain. Yes, the madness began as an unimaginable enhancement of the senses. Finally, her mind would be the last to go. In her madness, she would be unsubdued and capable of killing without any sort of conscience or remorse. She would be reduced to a mindless savage…and then to death."

The lightning crashed as the words escaped his lips. Dust oozed from the seams of the fissure. "Months went by, and then almost two years. I stayed by her bedside. Doctors had all but given up hope as they were unable to find a cause or cure for her affliction. I went into much debt trying to hire the greatest minds in medicine to see her, but all in vain. I watched her as she grew disgusted with me and my company. Her love for me was turned to hatred. She began going into fits at the very sight of me or by the sounds of my voice and even my footsteps approaching rooms away. I…I only had one way to see her."

The raven flapped its wings, moving over atop the rocking chair beside him, causing it to creak loudly. "Shhhh! Be quiet. You mustn't awaken her!" the old man gave a soft, but stern reprimand. The sudden move of the raven startled the caretaker, but he continued. "If I didn't love her, I could not have done what I…I had to do. For many nights, I removed my shoes and tiptoed to her bedroom door. Sometimes, I would spend hours standing still, moving only a few steps each night. One night, I grew brave enough to gently open her bedroom door. I carefully made my way to her bedside. The creak of the floorboard caused her to shuffle. I had no choice! I…I had to do it! I leaped toward her bedside with my hands around her neck. She screamed in terror! Her scream! Oh, that terrible, blood-chilling scream! I didn't know what to do! I...I had to stop her screaming. I moved one of the pillows over her horror-stricken face to silence her! She stopped moving. The next morning, I called the doctors in and told them I thought she was dead. I told them that she had been screaming in her sleep. Knowing that she was sickly for so long with a disease of the mind, there were no questions as to how she died, and I never told them that what I had done. They said she had died of fright in her sleep."

The old man turned fidgety in his chair as the crack in the wall shifted once more. "I buried her here on this hill. Upon her tombstone, I had ordered a stone image of her favorite bird to watch over her while she slept. I had it placed right on top of her tombstone. Of all the graves on this hill, hers is the only one like it. Time and weather have taken their toll on her grave, though. When I went to visit her today, I noticed a piece of the raven had gone missing. You see, it's leg was…." he paused. "…missing…like yours."

His hands gripped his hair tightly. He fell to his knees before the raven, pleading with it. "I loved her, but…I don't know if I did it out of love and mercy, or because I had grown disgusted with her as she had me at that moment. We had so many dreams. I…I borrowed money that would take decades to pay back to try and help her! I…I wanted things to be the way they were again! Every year on this night, I know she haunts the graveyard looking for me! That's why I shut myself in here! She took her death with her. I could never gather the courage to bring myself to leave her alone! What if someone discovered her? They would know what I did! That's why I have spent my life guarding the secret. That's why I know this cemetery better than anyone. As much as I wanted my freedom, I could never be free to leave. I still love her. I never stopped. That's why I did what I did! I couldn't stand for her to suffer! I tried to do her a kindness! I knew death would be more peaceful to her than madness!"

The raven flapped its wings furiously, and a piece of the wall beneath the window began to split open.

"No! You must believe me! I didn't murder her! I tried to spare her! It was the disease that killed her long before this! Please! I'm not a murderer!"

In a split second, the raven took flight towards the candle, extinguishing the flame. The room was in complete darkness. Creaking echoed throughout the tiny chamber as the wall began splitting open piece by piece.

The old man screamed in shock and horror, trying to get his bearings in the dark. The angry flapping of the raven and the shifting sounds of the wall were all the old man could hear. With great strength, a sharp pecking was felt all over his skin. He stumbled forward to try and find the door so he could shut the bird inside. He found the bolts and worked furiously to release them. He pressed his hand against the door, pushing it open. The raven cawed angrily and would not stop attacking its prey. He tried to push the door back with the raven inside, but he was too late. He swung his frail arms furiously as he moved toward the front door to try and escape.

Bruised and covered with spots of blood over his arms and head, he managed to get the door open. He tried to shoo the bird out the door, but the door flew open from the angry winds and he felt something pulling him from the outside. He looked up, and there stood a decomposed corpse of a woman with traces of red hair on one side of her skull, and her bony hands were gripped tightly around his arms. With a mighty strength, the corpse screamed above the booms of thunder and the wild torrents of rainfall. The scream was just like the one he heard at the moment of her death.

The caretaker tried to turn back, but the large door shut behind him, trapping him outside.

He moved as quickly as he could through the cemetery yard, trying to escape the corpse of Annabel and her protector. The storm raged like he had never seen in forty-three years. He was unable to find his bearings, but he kept moving as much as he possibly could. Whenever he would stop to catch his breath, that ear-splitting scream of anger and madness would explode behind him. He came to a place where he could no longer go any further. The lightning illuminated his position. There, in front of him, was a deep pit with an empty casket that was open and soaked from the rain. The tombstone behind the open grave read:

 _"Here lies Annabel Lee Usher"_

The stone raven he had placed upon the top of her tombstone was not there. He turned around and saw the figure of Annabel's corpse staring at him through empty eye sockets. With a force unseen, her final shriek caused the caretaker to lean backwards at the edge of the open pit in the ground. His arms flailed about wildly as he tried to regain his balance. Turning as he lost his footing, the caretaker's face stared down at the deep, lonely pit and empty casket below him.

In his torment, his soul found vent in one final cry of despair. His body was swallowed into the open pit inside the waitng arms of the open casket that shut immediately upon his entrance.

Turning toward the mausoleum, Annabel screamed one final time, causing the fissure to split apart and the once sturdy building to collapse and crumble to the ground.

The storm clouds subsided at dawn, bringing with it the promise of a new day.

In the rubble left behind of the old mausoleum, all that could be found was the picture of Annabel Lee with a smile on her face.

The sun brightly shone upon a freshly-covered grave. There sat the raven with the missing leg at its peak.

The epitaph read:

 _"Here lies Annabel Lee Usher_

 _NEVERMORE"_

 _(I do not own the rights to DARK SHADOWS. My fanfic is meant only for the enjoyment of the reader. DARK SHADOWS is a Dan Curtis Production)_


End file.
